You Chose Us
by VegetarianFannibal
Summary: What if, at the end of His Last Vow, Sherlock had said what he had meant to say?


**My first Johnlock fic! I hope they're not too OOC. Contains spoilers for His Last Vow.**

"John, there's something I should say, I've meant to say always, and I never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now." Sherlock took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. For a moment he considered backing out and just saying something stupid, like that Sherlock was actually a girl's name or he really hated chocolate ice cream. He didn't want to risk making anything more strained between John and Mary than it already was. But no, he knew if he didn't say this now, he would never get another chance, and he would live out the remaining six months of his life in regret.

He opened his eyes again. John was waiting expectantly. "John, I love you."

"…You what?"

"I love you."

John looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. "Well, uh, I love you too, mate. You're my best friend, you know that," he said with uncomfortably forced casualty.

"No, John, I mean I _love_ you." The dead serious look in Sherlock's steel blue eyes was the last thing John saw before Sherlock kissed him.

It was nothing more than just a short, resolute press of the lips, but it conveyed all of the passion Sherlock did not know how to put into words.

In a second, it was over, and Sherlock stepped back, hastily concealed disappointment and pain apparent in his eyes as he saw the blank, shocked expression in John's. "Goodbye, John," he said with a forced smile.

John watched, feet glued to the pavement, as Sherlock walked calmly onto the plane. Furrowing his brow and blinking, John turned and walked back to Mary. "He… he just kissed me…" he said, ghosting his finger over his lips as if looking for confirmation that it had actually happened.

"I know he did," said Mary, a hint of melancholy mischief gleaming in her eyes. "He asked me first."

"He what?"

Mary sighed, looked down at the pieces of gravel under her boots, and looked back up into her husband's confused eyes. "He came to me a few days ago. He knew with an operation as risky as what you just tried to do, that there was a chance it could go wrong, and so he came to talk to me…"

"_Mary, you're smart, very smart. So, I'm going to be completely honest with you, and tell you something that I'm certain you already know," said Sherlock, sitting down in the chair opposite his best friend's pregnant wife. "I love John." _

_Mary nodded knowingly. "He loves you too, you know." _

_Sherlock shook his head. "Not in the same way." _

_Mary kept quiet and sipped her tea._

"_In the event that something were ever to go wrong, say I get shot by a former government assassin again," he added, a playful note seeping into his voice, "I want to be able to tell him. He deserves to know, and I don't want to die without having said it." _

_Mary nodded in understanding. "I know, Sherlock. From the way he talked about you when he thought you were dead, how badly he was hurting when I met him, I knew he cared about you so much. To be honest, I felt like I was dating a widower. The moment I realized you were still alive and back in John's life, I knew you two were a package deal, and I was okay with that. He shaved for you, for god's sake." _

_Sherlock heaved a sigh and nodded, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of his chest, only to be replaced by a heavier burden on his shoulders. "Thank you for understanding, Mary. I couldn't have hoped for a better wife for John." _

_Mary grinned. "And I couldn't have hoped for him to have a better best friend." _

"_You're not afraid I'll steal him from you?" quipped Sherlock._

"_Steal him?" chuckled Mary. "That implies you didn't always have him in the first place." _

Back on the plane, Sherlock ran his hands over his face, fighting off the tears he felt stinging his eyes. He couldn't stop thinking about John, confused and likely disgusted, still standing there on the runway. But at least now he knew. Perhaps it was for the best that they wouldn't see each other again…

As the plane took off he dared not look back and try to see John one last time. He resigned himself to looking at the clouds.

"_**Did you miss me?" **_

"Sir, it's your brother."

"Mycroft."

"Hello, little brother. How's the exile going?"

"I've only been gone four minutes."

"Well I certainly hope you're learned your lesson. As it turns out, you're needed."

"For god's sake, make up your mind. Who needs me this time?"

Mycroft sighed as he started at Moriarty's image on the screen. "England."

John couldn't make sense of the emotions swirling around in his head as he watched the plane turn around and touch down back on the runway. Fear and confusion that the man who had strapped a bomb to his chest was back, apprehension and an unnamable twisting feeling in his gut that the man who had just kissed him was coming back, and relief tinged with joy that Sherlock, his best friend, was coming back. Then of course there was the matter of his wife standing beside him. What would she want him to do now that he knew about Sherlock's feelings? He stared into her eyes, for once at a total loss.

"Mary, what… what do I do?" he asked.

"What do you want to do, John?" she asked.

"I love you. You're my wife," he said.

"No one's doubting that. The question's not how you feel about me. It's how you feel about him. You're gonna have to say something to him. You can't just pretend it never happened," she said, rubbing a gentle hand on his arm.

"I… I don't know how I feel about Sherlock. I'd need more time to think," he shook his head.

Mary looked up from John as the door to the plane opened and Sherlock stepped out, hands in the pockets of his signature coat, head slightly bowed in embarrassment. In the eight minutes that had passed since he'd kissed John, he still was not able to deduce how the doctor would react.

Sensing he no longer had his wife's full attention, John looked up to see Sherlock slowly making his way towards them. "Christ…" he muttered, shaking his head.

"Don't worry about me, John," Mary encouraged softly. "Do what you've got to do. You know I'll always be here for you."

John nodded, gave Mary a quick yet loving kiss, and started walking towards Sherlock, still not entirely sure what he was going to do.

"Well," said Sherlock once they met where they had stood before. His quirky, ironic smile turned up the corner of his lips. "This is unexpected."

John took in a deep breath. "Sherlock…"

"Wait, John, before you say anything, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I realize I may have put you in an uncomfortable position, and I apologize. I promise I will not let my feelings interfere with our friendship should you wish to continue…"

"Sherlock, stop," John cut him off. "You don't need to apologize. And what do you mean 'should I wish to continue'? Of course I do; like I said, you're my best friend. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

Sherlock felt his cheeks growing warmer and realized with a start that he was blushing. "But I'm just your best friend, right. Nothing more?"

John sighed and unconsciously stepped closer. "I don't know, Sherlock. I really don't. Maybe if I didn't have Mary things would be different, but…"

Back from where she was attentively reading their lips, Mary sighed. "For god's sake, John, just kiss him already!" she shouted.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and grinned down at the flustered doctor. Well, John never could resist Sherlock's smirk… "Oh, to hell with it," he muttered before cupping his hand around the back of Sherlock's neck and pulling him down until their lips met once more. Mary whistled in the background, but neither of them really noticed.

When they separated, John had a serious look in his eyes. "I'm still not gay, you know," he said.

Sherlock chuckled. "Of course you're not. You think I didn't deduce your sexuality the minute I met you?"

"Oh, screw you," said John, shoving the detective's chest playfully.

Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "Is that an offer?"

John laughed and shook his head at the ground as he turned to make his way back to Mary with Sherlock in tow. "So, you're okay with this?" he asked her.

"John, I haven't exactly led the most innocent, mundane life. Of course I'm up for… whatever this is," she said, gesturing to the three of them.

John wrapped his wife up in a tight hug. "Why are you so perfect? Why are both of you so perfect?" he murmured.

Sherlock grinned. "Because you chose us."


End file.
